


Amarantos

by TheHangedMan



Category: Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Hoshido | Birthright Route, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-17
Updated: 2017-09-17
Packaged: 2018-12-30 18:58:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12115110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheHangedMan/pseuds/TheHangedMan
Summary: “I do envy your black and white view on the world.”“I would not. The world is not black or white.”





	Amarantos

**Author's Note:**

> takes place two weeks after the events of Birthright, Chapter 18 Leo.

Everything ached. 

His arms. His legs. His neck. Nothing, however, compared to the ever-present, excruciating reminder that twisted the skin and leached away at his strength. It was an ugly looking wound, tucked away under layers of unchanged cloth bandages, spanning his right side from his upper ribs to his hip, circling around his back nearly to his spine and forward to his anterior side, reaching just the length of his pinky finger from his navel.

Getting comfortable, with a wound such as this, was a far fetched dream. No amount of silk sheets or downy soft pillows could ease his body’s aching. Closing his red, angry, bloodshot eyes brought little relief. His side burned with a persistent intensity that only allowed for small bouts of unsatisfying sleep here and there, between forced stretches of wakefulness that left him more exhausted than before. No matter which way he turned or what position he moved into, the angry throbbing continued without mercy. 

He had tried everything within his knowledge to speed up his healing time. Vulnaries gave mild relief to his suffering when applied to the surface, but their healing properties were far too weak to do much but clot the leaking lacerations and mend the surface layers of his epidermis for a few hours at a time. The scabbing process was never permanent and ripped open time and time again by the lecherous dark magic that still resided within. While most of the curse from the dark magic had been drained by the castle’s healers, enough that it no longer threatened to claim his life by any direct means, trace amounts still remained, prolonging the process of recovery and very nearly confining Leo to bed. 

Though relatively ineffective against a wound of this caliber that had seeped so deep and destroyed so much, he had been taking nerve numbing poultices to in the very least ease his muscles and take the edge off the pain. While they assisted the healing process to some extent, he made the executive decision, much to the castle healer’s disapproval, to wean himself off of the concoctions. He had taken smaller and smaller doses, for personal fear of their addictive side effects after prolonged use. 

However, he now found himself considering the possibility that he’d been over-zealous, too hasty to be rid of the medicinal assistance. Rest unaided had become far too difficult to come by. Lack of sleep dulled his mind and did nothing to expedite the path to return to his work. He had not a moment more to waste in bed, with a war raging on just inside the borders of his homeland, Nohr.

He shifted under his blankets, struggling in vain to discover a position that would offer a small degree of comfort among the far-too-soft coverings of his bed. 

He stretched with clumsy caution, but his movements were too ambitious and unplanned. The only reward he received for the brave exertion was a yet another sharp spasm of pain that left him frozen in fear of exacerbating the damage any further. 

The feeling subsided back to its usual persistent throbbing, and Leo breathed again, trying to calm the loud pounding of his heart against his breast. Frustration pushed its way back to the forefront of his thoughts, but he pushed back against it. An infantile tantrum wouldn’t do him any good.

He should have been grateful for this sorry state in the very least. It was a miracle in and of itself that he had healed up to this point, with how long he had been dragged out in the wilds of Nohr, unconscious, and without the immediate attention of healers that he had required. An infection had festered, driving up his fever until it had been sterilized and controlled upon his return home.

At least he had passed the point where the grievance was no longer entirely debilitating. Although not in a particularly dignified manner, he could be moved now, without real fear of causing more damage as long as delicacy was used. While he enjoyed the change of scenery, being carried around like a delicate sack of flour by the castle guard was humiliating, so he avoided it when at all possible. Of all places to be confined, his room, with a warm crackling fireplace and grandiose balcony view, was not so bad as the drab hospital wing where personal privacy was fleeting. 

He did miss the company of the conversational partners he had found in the form of other patients for the most part. Injured castle guards and retainers, though generally educated nobility, tended to be dull and slow witted — but still, they managed to fill the silence when his mind was too clouded with overly potent concoctions to concentrate on a book. Xander, however, did not seem to agree that Leo was good company for them. He had chastised him during one of his few visits to his bedside for the snide comments he made in passing during one of his foul moods. 

In theory, it wasn’t that he didn’t have ways to pass the time now. He’d had the castle servants bring him a large wooden slab to use as a writing surface in bed, so as to keep up with the various demands of war the moment he was well enough to sit up. Beside his bed, an ancient wooden nightstand stood, nearly sagging under the weight of the dozens and dozens of books. They ranged anywhere from historical texts to tactical accounts of battlemasters long gone and, without discrimination on subject, had been torn through in attempt to keep a semblance of sanity in the long hours without company.

In a time not so perilous as this, he would have had visitors and servants at his beck and call if he so pleased, but the staff was stretched thin, even with the dangerous pretense of confidence in regards to the war outcome that the castle nobility exuded in order to keep up their extravagant and leisurely lifestyles. So few had time to visit now that his condition had stabilized. He found more often than not when he had run out of books to barrel through, his eyes mentally traced the ancient imperfections in the masonry of the walls, or followed the stitches of a woven tapestry hanging nearby. His own thoughts were found to be the most constant company he had. And despite his desperate pursuit of distraction, he found his attention dragged back, again and again to one thing.

Kamui.

Not a waking hour had passed that he hadn’t thought about his once-brother. Nothing could claim his attention for long enough to keep him from it. Over and over again, he turned over the passionate words that had been exchanged between the two of them, the vulgarities he’d thrown in the end. He agonized over every detail of their recent encounters, the past he cherished despite everything, the future they had promised to build together only proving to increase the uncomfortable weight on his chest.

Still, even with the hours he wasted in reluctant contemplation, he couldn’t put his finger on the emotion that gripped his heart and squeezed and squeezed until he was left shaking and breathless.

He was furious, yes; that was the easiest feeling to pinpoint.

His traitorous brother was the one responsible for his pathetic state. He had been the one to knock him from his mount in the Woods of the Forlorn. Then, later, his assistance in cornering Leo with his sword of providence had been vital to that tribalist mage who had, in the end, dealt him this wound that had crippled him and labeled him useless to the war efforts.

His pride was wounded, possibly irreparable.

He had not the courage to face his father since his defeat, for shame of the failure on the battlefield and his inability to bring the enemy to justice. Coming before the king in such a weakened state, especially with his father’s infamous temper, was daft in every sense of the word. He was not so obtuse as to beg for forgiveness — at least, not in such an undignified manner and until he could stand strong on his own two feet. If a coward he was to be branded for prolonging the inevitable punishment, then so be it.

Honor no longer carried any worth in this country.

He wanted more than anything to aim his directionless fury at the one singularity that the heavens pointed to, but a fatal flaw of character held him back. He could not look beyond the childhood he and his brother had shared. The hours that had been spent in the Northern Fortress, the lonely smile of a soul not yet sullied by the world, who longed more than anything to see the what lay outside his opulent prison. He couldn’t find it in himself to hate so pointedly. The only animosity he could muster directed itself towards the situation that caused their quarrel, leaving him feeling unsatisfied and hollow. He could curse the gods all he liked, but in the end he couldn’t entirely forsake the love he held for his brother.

Then what did he feel towards Kamui?

Disappointment?

He could think of nothing better to describe it, despite the ill fitting word. Why had their brother betrayed them? Had their familial bonds really been so flimsy that he’d been ready to give them up the moment a true claim to his linage had appeared? Surely the foundation of his loyalty was built on something stronger.

A deep sorrow was ever present in his waking hours. It filled Leo, threatening to swallow him whole and plunge him into the depths of the well of disparity. A subtle madness, characteristic of their dragon bloodline, though heavily diluted with the blood of man. Whereas it gave power and mild longevity, it also cultured a inextinguishable passion that had in the end claimed the lives of many early kings and queens of countries past. It now had their sister in its grip and-

No. He halted the line of thought to correct himself.

His elder sister.

Kamui’s departure had fractured their hard fought yet seemingly fragile family bonds beyond repair. With only a few words, he had single handedly returned the royal family of Nohr back to a time not so long ago to be forgotten. A period when their home had contained far more brothers and sisters, but lacked warmth and the castle walls burst at their seams with enemies. He may have been young, but he remembered when not one of royal blood who wished to hold onto their life traveled alone and without a dagger. Poison might as well have been grown in the vineyard for all the times it was found in the wine.

Deep within his heart he carried the same futile wish that had driven Camilla to madness, turned Xander cold, and stolen the youthful glint from Elise’s eyes. A wish for their brother to return home, for things to continue as they had, for such nonsense to be done away with. His siblings would find it in their hearts to forgive him if he would just return home. 

No, he stopped himself again, his imagination was getting the best of him.

This was a foolish, impossible wish. The hurts he’d caused were already too deep. His focus should not have lain on the reasoning behind his brother’s turncoat decision or his return back to his true family, but on the victory of Nohr. His heart ached from the helpless grief almost as much as the marred skin over his ribs from the dark magic. He wished it would turn to stone as had Xander’s before him.

Their encounter had been over two weeks ago now. Why did the fire still burn anew daily?

He should have been grateful for escaping with his life. He repeated this idea to himself, as if the repetition would change the reality.

The great mystery of why Kamui had thought to spare his life prodded at his mind, but despite his near admitted obsession with his lost brother, he found another even greater enigma remained that begged to be solved. 

How he had gotten back to the castle? A gap of three delirious days, still unaccounted for in his memory, remained in which he and an also-incapacitated Odin had somehow been dragged singlehandedly back to the capital. 

Niles alone had been credited with the rescue of the two mages. As for how the thief had managed to drag two fully grown adults (although in Odin’s case adult in age and build alone) back without assistance, he refused a straight answer. Instead, when confronted at Leo’s bedside among maids, he gave more than obviously crude impractical solutions, humorous to no one but himself. The maids had not taken it well, predictably.

The results of questioning him further in private not long after were much the same, although no further chances had been presented since then. His retainer had been scarce since his condition had stabilized.

It was suspicious, Leo concluded. 

He had no horse, no cart, nothing except the clothes on his back and arrows in his quiver. The remains of a battlefield were not a friendly place to be, and no Faceless in his wildest dreams would have lent Niles the aid required to make it back in such a punctual manner.

Niles rarely ever kept information from him when questioned outright in private. Neither one of them was a stranger to less than honest methods; he knew that Leo would not lecture him on the matter so long as the ends justified the means. Something about the way he tip-toed around the subject felt evasive, unnatural even.

But, he trusted his judgement just enough to pry no further. After all, he had managed to bring him home in nearly one piece; for that he would be getting a pay raise.

A loud noise broke him from the seemingly endless tangent of thoughts, jolting him back to reality. He identified it, a knock sounding against his bedroom door, but it took a moment too long for him to attach meaning to it. 

A visitor. He had a visitor.

Who? His thoughts turned to the worst possibilities, turning over the probability of a visit from each of them. 

Garon.

No, his father would never leave his throne room.

Zola. 

Dead, at the hands of his father.

Hans. 

A possibility, but unlikely.

Iago. 

Also a possibility, far more likely.

Xander.

...

He tried to sit up, to force some sense of dignity despite his feeble state. His abdominal muscles screamed at him and he felt a hot wetness soak through the bandages, but he ignored it though gritted teeth. The time for careful self pity was past. Not one of those people could know how truly weakened he felt. 

Before anything, he was a Nohrian prince, and to them at least, that title was still paired with dignified expectations.

There was a shuffling noise outside, and it came to Leo’s attention that he’d forgotten to invite the visitor inside. He stared blankly at the smooth decorated wood, his thoughts reeling backwards, rewinding back to the simpler part of his mind that assigned speech to meaning.

“Come in.” He croaked out, his voice cracking from disuse. 

There was little hesitation before the hinges groaned as the old wooden door swung open, allowing a freezing draft of air to sneak in. It felt as if it was an announcement for a visitor from the Ice Tribe, the way the ice gust came on so suddenly: it filled the room like smoke and threatened to put out the hearth. On reflex, Leo clutched the sheets of his bed closer, trying and failing to keep a barrier against himself and the cold. 

His visitor, unfortunate or not, was no resident of the frigid mountains. 

Heavy leather boots thumped against the stone tiling of the floor. A soft jingling met his ears and his line of sight fell to a pretty gold ring where near dozens of little metal keys hung from a gold medallion belt around the visitor’s hips. A smug smile plastered itself on the man’s lips. 

This was no dignified ambassador of the ice tribe, or rather a dignified individual at all.

The visitor, a very scruffy looking outlaw, had hair grown out well past his collarbone, stubble dark enough to be visible much to Leo’s dissatisfaction. For all the smirks and smiles he gave not one seemed to ever reach his single visible narrow blue eye. The other, long lost at the hands of another of his breed, rested, shrouded under a black leather eyepatch.

For a moment Leo’s mouth gaped open in disbelief at the unannounced arrival of his first retainer. 

Then his mind caught back up to speed. All of the energy he exerted on his torn up abdominal muscles had been wasted. The effort to keep himself in a sitting position vanished in an instant. He slumped back down into his pillows as if his spine itself had ceased to exist. 

There was no need for formalities with Niles.

“Don’t look so excited to see me, milord.” The corner of his mouth twitched and his mouth found it was able to take on an even stronger air of cockiness as he closed the door behind himself. 

“Do you want me to get up and do a dance for you then, Niles?” It was no struggle to keep his tone flat, but he couldn’t keep the sarcasm from dripping from his words.

A chuckle escaped his retainer and he gave a playful shrug. “So I see this grievous wound has not dampened your charming sense of humor.” His voice was low and rolled over each syllable, holding them in place for a moment, before releasing each from his grasp.

Leo fought to keep his attention at eye level to avoid further provocation. He was not in the mood to play this game.

“I also see that this minor injury has made you think you have some sort of excuse to be frolicking around the castle and not to be cleaning up daily.” He shot an accusatory glare at the stubble on Niles jaw.

It was the first time he’d seen his retainer since he stabilized a few days after their return, he did not fail to note. Just what Niles had been up to in all that leisure time, he couldn’t surmise a guess. 

Niles shrugged sheepishly, his left hand reaching to scratch unconsciously at his chin. “I came to give you these, and to inform you that your royal bath is ready.” He motioned to a stack of a half dozen books tucked under his right arm, partially concealed by a heavy blue cloak that hung from a clasp around his neck. The maids normally brought him those when they brought him his meals and added wood to hearth. 

His eyes drifted away from the books to a full quiver of arrows that peeked out from behind his thighs. His bow rested among the feathers, unstrung and useless until it was.

Unusual, Leo noted. Weapons were not often permitted to be carried inside. 

Despite the offhand remarks and the unexpected carrier of the the news, the message was still music to his ears. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a proper bath, not to mention the chance to have his bedsheets changed while he was away.

Since his return, a damp cloth and a basin filled with soapy water had been the closest experience he’d had with maintaining cleanliness. But now, his wounds were healed enough for light movement. He could finally leave his room, with great assistance and a degree of risk. An amount he was willing to accept for the trade off.

His wound, though painful and most certainly open again, was finally mended enough that he could remove his bandages.

This was all a very carefully planned ordeal that had required the reluctant permission from the castle’s head healer. Still, he couldn’t help but wonder why it was that Niles was here telling him this. This was not the duty of a retainer, he honestly had expected a large stifling party of butlers and maids to come aid him in the process. He supposed getting there with just Niles’ assistance would be a possibility.

Niles dropped the rather old looking books onto the bed haphazardly beside Leo raising an eyebrow at the completed stack on his nightstand. “I see you’ve been doing some light reading.”

It had been a while since his books had last been returned to the castle library. He could admit the pile was rather tall. “To pass the time,” he mumbled, glancing away from it. Reading without the ability to apply the learned knowledge was such a waste, just another reason for him to leave this bed as quickly as possible.

Niles could take the old ones back to the castle library, and if not him then whomever tidied up his room. The maids had learned the hard way which books were to be removed and which were not. 

“So then, to the bathing room?” Niles leaned over the bed, arms outstretched, making a motion to pick up prince out of his bed. 

“Just what do you think you’re doing!” Leo swatted at him aggressively, smacking his arms away and blocking any possibility of grabbing him.

Niles backed off just enough to avoid further assault, “Taking you to your bath of course.”

Leo huffed, irritated, “In what manner did you have in mind? Were you thinking of carrying me?”

The retainer bowed with almost comedic depth, “But of course milord, unless you’d like to walk there yourself.”

“No… I do not want that.”

“...and yet you don’t want me to cradle you like a maiden, my prince? I had assumed that to be the most gentle way with your current state.”

“No.” Leo winced as he pushed himself into a sitting position, “No, that won’t be necessary, carry me on your back.”

“Oh so you’d prefer to ride me then?” Niles’ wiggled his single visible eyebrow suggestively. His hips tilted in such a manner that drew attention back to them.

Gods. He was not in the mood for this shameless teasing.

“Niles.” His voice took on a tone of warning. He prayed no trace of his embarrassment crept onto his cheeks; it would only serve to exacerbate the crude behavior.

He chuckled and stepped back, clearly pleased with the reaction he received. “Right, let me fetch your boots, milord.” 

In one smooth motion, he unhooked the clasp that held his cape in place and shrugged it off his shoulders letting it fall on the bed right over the books he’d set down moments before. He then set to work unbuckling the belt that held his quiver from his waist, which he propped up against the bed frame far more neatly.

When Niles had first entered his services he’d come from the streets and had been concerningly skinny from lack of proper meals. Since his time in the castle he had bulked up, putting on a decent amount of muscle from the nature of his work and diet. 

Despite this, for some inconceivable reason he refused to allow himself to be remeasured even when his clothing became… distractingly tight. It was a mild source of irritation on his part, he often nagged Niles about it, but he would not budge an inch on the matter. Leo had just about given up hope at this point on direct confrontation, rather, next he would try guessing the new measurements and having the altered garments replaced subtly. 

The thief had mentioned that he “refused to let those seamstresses have their way with him again.” However, Leo felt that there was more to his resistance than the process. It was not uncommon for royals and their retainers to have many different changes of clothing for meals, combat training, battles, balls, etcetera. Niles on the other hand maintained only two. One for fighting and for roaming the castle grounds, then another for formal occasions.

He supposed that as long as his retainer’s clothing still fit his physique in a mostly professional manner, were washed often, and stayed in good repair, he really couldn’t find much more to complain about other than the oddity of it.

His boots were brought to his bedside and the sheets were thrown off of him further burying the books under layers of fabric. It really was freezing outside of the coverings. An uncontrollable shiver struck him, the thin layers of his night shirt and leggings offered no protection. “Niles could you get me a cloak?”

Niles grabbed for his own discarded on and fastened the closure once again, this time around Leo’s neck. While he would have preferred one of his own, Niles’ was heavy and provided instantaneous relief, so he complained no further.

 

He pushed himself to the edge of the bed and gingerly slipped his feet inside the boots that had been set out for him, testing the limit of strain his body would tolerate. It was enough for the journey, he decided, just so long as he wasn’t jostled around carelessly.

“Okay,” He exhaled deeply, preparing himself, “Let’s go.”

~

Chapter break??? Separate into two???

~

Clarkenstein villa, where the royal family and its retainers resided, lay within the very center of Castle Krakenberg nearly surrounded on all sides by a moat, dug out of the earth by the magic of the ancestors of Nohr. His legendary tome, Brynhildr, although old even from that age, had aided in the formation of the foundation. Imposing walls rose up from around the steadily shifting water and held the remainder of the inner castle, carved into the face of the stone.

The villa itself was a great tower, built mostly from black granite, stretched vertically from the bedrock that slept beneath the water’s surface. Five floors of stone spiral staircases and three long ornate hallways stood in between Leo’s room and the ground floor where the bathing room lay. 

Five floors and three long hallways full of chances for Niles to explain himself.

And predictably, he did not.

But then, the halls were no place to carry on a private conversation, they both knew that well. Every shifting shadow held Iago’s prying eyes. Every howling wind that blew through the castle’s corridors carried whispers of treason against him.

They carried on their way in a cautious silence.

The rabbit hole of Leo’s thoughts continued to be the only dependable distraction against the discomforts.

Iago, retainer to the king, and religious authority for the worship of Anankos, may very well have held the king and his court in the palms of his bony hands. The snake had far too great a hold on his father and too much of a say in the political dealings of the country for his lack of pedigree. His popularity and influence over the court grew daily, as that for the royal siblings waned.

Niles’ footfalls echoed through the empty passage. He stopped for a moment to readjust his grip on Leo’s thighs. The break in rhythm felt like agony; Leo gritted his teeth and bit back the complaints that fought to make themselves known. He clenched his fists. It was enough of a break to force him to look up from the washed out red carpet to the adornments on the wall. 

The castle was filled with reminders of Iago's growing influence.

A beautiful glass window mosaic of The Dusk Dragon had, at one time, been inlaid into these very walls. It had cast brilliantly colored lights into the dreary hallway at every sunrise and sunset, filling the passageway with life. It now lay in ruins, destroyed by the recently deceased Zola at the request of his father, leaving a gaping hole in its place. A threadbare tarp served as the only means of covering the missing wall now, and it did nothing to stop the howling winter winds from tearing through.

A new piece of art was in the workings, that much could be ascertained by the paper plans that rested on a work bench nearby. Stacks of beautiful glasses and other materials weighed it down so that the angry gusts didn't carry it away, thought it didn’t seem that it had been worked on for some time. At least, plans for a new effigy of Anankos didn’t take priority over war.

Leo didn't consider himself to be a deeply religious individual, but to have the dragon god that his household had revered for generations pushed out and replaced; It did play a tune of guilt on his heart strings. The changes felt too sudden to be natural.

Too forced to be genuine.

And it only served to expand his list of reasons to hold onto his grudge against Iago.

His grip almost slipped for a moment, but he clung to Niles with every ounce of his might. His fists balled up in the fabric of the retainer's tunic, knees dig into his ribs. The increasing difficulty from his waning strength didn't seem to sway Niles in the slightest, however; the strong grip on his thighs didn't falter and he made no complaints against the shifting conditions.

He pushed his focus back to his mental tangent.

Leo was not afraid of him, Iago that is — he was a prince of Nohr. There was no world in which that title carried less weight than a retainer’s did, but caution was not lost on him. His recent failure did not win him any favor.

Personal gripes aside, the citizens of Nohr clearly were not happy about the changes. Statues torn down, churches rebuilt, all in honor of the Silent Dragon. The only thing that kept the royal family on the throne at this point was national pride and fear.

“Something on your mind?” Niles got his attention again, tilting his head so his good eye met Leo’s. 

“Something like that.” He mumbled back. His own mind was the one greatest comfort he had and his greatest asset. Besides, with the way things were going, It felt like the stage was being set for a volatile climax. Sitting around empty headed did no one any good.

He didn’t expand on the statement, and Niles pushed him no further.

If Leo had ached before the walk, by the time they arrived at their destination his side was screaming. Sweat dripped down his clammy brow and his breathing escaped, labored from all the straining and effort of the move.

Honest relief washed over him when the heavy wooden door came into view. The bathing room entrance was a very welcome sight to his weary body.

Leo didn't know how Niles managed it, but he hooked a foot under the door's brass handle and braced their combined weight against the wall. With one sharp movement, he threw the door open with only the use of his boot and then jammed it into the doorway before it had a chance to close again. His movements lacked any delicacy and jostled Leo roughly as they slipped inside the room. He felt himself reaching the limit of the pain he was willing to take.

The bathing room was a bit smaller than most other rooms in the castle due to its singular function. It only required room to house a stove for heating water, various tables and wooden dressers for storing bathing necessities, and then the bath itself, for bathing predictably. It was built into the ground out of stones carved with intricate designs form the skilled hands of craftsmen and the earth magic of ancient mages alike. Faded runes rested inside the designs, spelling out blessings of strength and wellness along with Nohr's histories in the ancient tongue.

Like all educated students of magic, Leo had been taught to read runes at a young age. Despite years of study, the ancient tongue continued to baffle him with it's double meanings and shifting sentence structure. Few men alive could really call themselves masters of it.

A set of maids hovered by the stove, finishing the labor-intensive task of heating the final bucket of bathwater. Intently focused on the task at hand, they didn’t look up when the exhausted duo entered, instead the shorter of the two acknowledged him with a quick verbal “milord” to keep up an air of politeness. They lifted the final vat of water off the stove and deposited its near boiling contents, with visible struggle, into the stone bath where the heat dispersed throughout. 

Long ago, the pit that housed Krakenburg, had been dug out of the hard dry ground in search for freshwater and greater defense. Many underground tunnels once snaked out around the bottom of the pit, but now most had either been blocked off or had long ago collapsed once one steady source had been found in the form of an underground river. Clean water ran steadily through the entire base level of the castle leaving the interior practically self sufficient as long as the population stayed low and crop yields were adequate.

Niles helped him down onto a worn old wooden stool next to the water’s edge. He couldn’t contain the sigh that escaped his lips when the world steadied. All the jostling about had doubtless, opened up some of his smaller wounds on top of whatever he had done in bed earlier.

It really would have been a better idea to have settled for another sponge bath, but requesting Niles fetch him one, the further humiliation wouldn’t have been worth the price. He would take some extra bleeding over Niles’ jokes.

The maids lifted up the empty bin and he saw his chance and took it. “Thank you, that will be plenty, you’re both dismissed.” He motioned to them with his free arm while he untangled his other hand from its iron grip in Niles’ clothes.

“Yes, thank you for your hard work. Feel free to go, but if you lovely maidens decide to stay you may witness something stimulating.” Niles saunters over the the taller of the two and she looks absolutely mortified at the suggestion.

Leo knew what was coming, but the words to stop Niles didn’t surface nearly as fast as his realization did. Instead, he watched in horror as Niles continued to move closer with slow pointed footsteps. His mouth opening and closing wordlessly.

“I wouldn’t mind the audience while I’m undressing the little prince." While the phrasing of his words identified the subject of undress was Leo, he maintained direct and intense eye contact with the taller of the two causing her a near visible double take. 

As if reveling in her discomfort, Niles continued, "And after the prince’s bath I think we all may be able to discover pleasure in activities of a bit more active and a little less virtuous nature only achievable in a group setting such as this.”

The woman turned an almost impressive shade of red while her companion gawked at the openly obscene display. Disbelief was written all over her face. 

Niles lifted a hand to make a lewd gesture. The words finally came to Leo. 

“You’re dismissed!" He blurted out.

His voice, a bit too loud, the words sounded strange and forced. 

All three of the servants of the household of Nohr turned to look at him startled by his volume. He forced himself to breath before further elaborating by means of another sentence.

"I have no other need of your services today, You’re free to go.”

The shorter maid curtsied and the other awkwardly followed suit, glancing back and forth between her and the prince and then Niles. Neither of them wasted any more time, in a twirl of skirts and aprons, the two of them stumbled hastily out of the room.

Niles watched them go, a smug grin plastered on his marred face. Then his attention fell back to Leo, searching for some sort of reaction, almost as if he was looking forward to the lecture that was sure to follow. 

Leo responded predictably, he was not impressed. 

"Was that necessary? I swear the amount of butlers and maids that put up with your crudeness dwindles with every passing day."

The thief returned to his side, looking utterly pleased with himself. He knelt down next to Leo and gingerly slipped the black headband out of his hair, setting it down on small wooden table, an arm’s length away. 

“Did the little prince not enjoy my joke? Besides, I can name more than a few who enjoy the pleasure of my company.”

“Would it hurt to learn some restraint?” He already knew the answer, but he found himself asking anyway, praying for a different response.

“There is only one form of restraint I am interested in and it does not involve a smaller vocabulary.”

And again he was disappointed.

Niles nudged his elbow and Leo lifted up his arms in response, allowing him to unfasten the belt around his waist and pull it away.

“One of these days I’m going to find a punishment you don’t somehow seem to make light of…” Leo muttered, only with halfway serious consideration. "If this keeps up, soon you'll have to be the one to draw my bathwater."

Niles doesn’t answer him.

While the words that came out of Niles’ mouth were not always necessarily pleasant, being ignored by him was decidedly more unpleasant. Leo turned his back to face the retainer, mouth opening, ready to tell him off again. The criticism however, never came.

Niles attention fell elsewhere. He didn’t meet Leo’s eyes, Instead his gaze fell lower, to his exposed chest. His eye analyzed the battered and beaten skin with such intense focus it seemed nothing could break it. 

Leo could admit, the wound looked ugly.

It was a relief having the pressure off of the wound, but without the fastening, his night shirt came loose and slid away revealing old bandages covering an almost impressively large area of skin. Dark bruises splattered his chest, painting his skin with their colorful, blotted inconsistency. Closed cuts of a far less serious nature dotted the area with far less frequency. The edge of melted skin peek out of the confines of his old bandages and all the way up to the dip of his collar bone.

Confirmation that his side had been torn open again was also given. The bandages were soaked through with bright blood and a yellowing pus from the disturbed sores. 

As someone who had experienced the battlefield and the injuries that followed, especially those resulting from magic, it should have been nothing the thief hadn’t seen before. The manner in which he reacted however, made it seem as if he was experiencing it all for the first time again.

For a moment, Niles almost wore the expression of a guilty man. 

Leo pulled the fabric back over his chest quickly feeling the sudden change in atmosphere. 

“Niles.” 

The thief's attention came back to the conversation.

“I’m sorry, what was that, Milord? Something about punishment?” 

With his mind focused back on the task at hand, Niles reached for Leo’s tunic. The soft cotton slid off of Leo’s shoulders with ease, taking little more exertion for him to twist out of it completely. His shirt was folded, then set aside, added to a growing pile of his discarded belongings.

“It was nothing…”

A strained silence followed, but the work continued.

The bandages were unwound with great care and no further misplaced reaction crept onto Niles’ face. Crusted blood peeled from his side as the final layer was removed. Pieces of old scab tore, as much a part of his skin as they were a part of the dirtied fabric.

He ground his teeth. 

It hurt like hell.

He glanced down at the ugly wound and felt his stomach turn at the sight. The surface, twisted, bloodied and deformed. A purple tinted film glazed over the surface. It leaked a thick yellow fluid from some of the sores that had begun to form around the perimeter of the injury.

Dark magic injuries of a serious nature weren’t something that healed easily or ever completely for that matter. On top of that, with the three days it had gone untreated in the wilds of Nohr, It was a miracle that he was even alive.

His heart caught in his throat.

Yes.

A miracle.

He remembered the castle healer, her expression wrought with worry, voicing her concerns that he would never walk again before his fever had broken and they managed to drain out most of the curse from his flesh. The magic damage had seeped its decaying effects through his skin so close to his spine it threatened to maim him beyond the help of modern medicine.

His eyes wandered until they fell on a Vulnerary waiting for him next to a fresh set of clothing. It would be there for him once he finished his bath.

“Right, Niles,” He recalled a previous train of thought, “after this bring word to the apothecary or the head healer that I need to adjust my medicine dosage again.”

“As you wish milord, although I am sure they will not be happy to hear that the young master is taking matters into his own hands once again. Not that I mind taking the full brunt of that wonderful displeasure.”

“Thank you, Niles,” Leo ignored the comment.

“Anything for you, Lord Leo.” Niles smiled, displaying a full set of crooked teeth.

Niles dabbed at the wound with a clean cloth until the sores no longer leaks their various fluids down Leo’s side. He has a decent amount of basic experience in field medicine; honestly, if Niles hadn’t laughed at the idea, Leo would have wanted to get him to train with Elise in the use of staves. The main difficulty was his literacy level, every study of magic required a varying amount of book study that would be difficult to teach without being able to read easily. 

The thief didn’t shy away from gruesome wounds, that much was for sure, but something was different about this time. Something was wrong.

Vague memories surfaced in Leo’s mind, ones he’d already played over and over again.

He could recall Niles’ face, through the haze of his sickness. There were only a few waking moments he’d been able to make sense of from the feverish dreams. He’s wasn’t sure if what he recalled was real, he'd never seen Niles so distraught. Regardless, this moment it had different quality or realness than the rest of it. 

Voices raised in anger, speech indistinguishable, breaking, helpless.

“I’m sorry.” The words tumbled out of Leo’s mouth before he could stop them. 

There’s no explanation of context, but it snaps Niles from his trance, washing the blank expression from his face. He picked up on the conversation’s tone without the guidance of an exposition. “Don’t apologize to me.”

 

~

Dirt filled his mouth. He spat, freeing his mouth from the disgusting taste. Freezing mud caked on the side of his face, his head throbbed relentlessly from a recent blow. All he could see was the forest floor, covered in decaying leaves, fallen branches and native fungi. 

“Ugh… Go ahead. Do what you must.” He croaks out seemingly to no one, but he knows he has an audience. 

Beside him he feels the impossibly still body of his mount Nosferatu. There’s a twinge of heartache that threatens to pull him away from the situation at hand, but he pushes it aside. Now is not the time to mourn over the fallen while the battle is not yet over and the living may still be in peril.

His retainers! He remembered abruptly. Where were they? He probes his groggy mind trying to remember their moment of separation. He must have lost sight of them in the chaos of the battlefield.

He repositioned himself carefully, turning his head to search for the one his words were intended for. He searched for only a moment before the familiar fiend came into view.

Slight of stature, clad in the white characteristic of Hoshido, his once brother Kamui stood looking down on him from above. They lock eyes and a fire reignites itself in Leo’s breast.

“No. Accept your defeat, and we can end this together.” Kamui’s expression radiated determination. His hands squeezed tightly into fists, dirty hands clenched the radiant Yato, his god given right to lead.

“Don’t you see? This can never end. Not until one of us is dead.” Leo threw back.

A heavy fog covered over his mind. He pushed himself up onto his hands and knees, his head spun, his side ached. One eyes was swollen shut, making it all the more difficult to focus on any one point for very long. Dull pain radiated from his nose; he tasted blood, felt it dripping down his chin.

“No! I can’t accept that. There was no need for our kingdoms to be at war in the first place. This is all Father’s doing, Leo! He’s fooled us all!”

A zealot, preaching with blind yet unwavering conviction. His voice was far too loud, his message echoing through the graveyard to his gathering of the dead.

Despite the disorientation, Leo still prided himself in his ability to keep up the conversation. “You’ve always been naive, Kamui. This is war.” He fights to keep his voice low and calm.

He shut his good eye for a moment to allow it rest before opening it again to focus on his brother’s face. Hundreds of emotions swirled through those ruby red eyes fighting to tear loose of his lips, to be at the forefront of this battle of creed.

“This is life and death. Only the strong survive.” He let himself fall back onto himself in a kneeling position as a demonstration of his powerlessness.

Kamui’s expression didn't budge. He said nothing.

Leo felt the desperation beginning to build. How could he not take his enemy’s life when he knelt defanged and declawed before him?

“Can’t you see, If Nohr bows down, we’ll lose everything. Our land… our people… our culture and our legacy… our families… even our lives.”

Silence. 

He realizes it far too late, a brainwashed traitor wouldn’t feel himself moved to defend a country he abandoned. Could he not even find it in himself to offer Leo the mercy of death after shaming him so? Was his heart stone?

“I won’t let Hoshido take anything more from us! I won’t back down!” 

“Am I the one who is naive?” Kamui responds, his voice irritatingly calm. “Or is it you, blind to Garon’s lust for power?” There was a tone of accusation to his words.

More blind lies fed to him by Hoshido.

He pushed aside the bubbling rage with what little restraint that still resided in him. The jab toward his father, the insult to his clarity of mind, it threatened to drive him past his breaking point. Instead, he reigned himself in, there was a strong air of hypocrisy to the statement. “Ha! As though the Hoshidans have never ended a life to serve their own purpose! They would slit your throat in an instant if they thought it served them. Think about who the real enemy here is.” 

He turned his head to the left to look very pointedly at the tribeswoman Orochi. She stood with her arms crossed and returned the dirty look tenfold in response. He knew it low of him he didn’t know the nature of this woman, but the persistent throbbing from the injury she dealt him only served to multiply the animosity he felt toward the situation.

“That’s not true! From the moment I arrived in Hoshido I was treated as if I belonged. The same goes for Azura. King Garon is mad with power and he must be stopped.”

Real fury blanked out Leo’s mind. 

This again.

“Don’t talk about Father that way!” He made a move to grab for Brynhildr, if Kamui wouldn’t kill him out of mercy then he would have to in self defense. He lunged towards the tome lying a decent distance away at the feet of a Hoshidan soldier who stood watching the scene unfold. He fumbled, the soldier’s hand shot forward deftly, snatching the book away from the opportunist mage. Kamui reacted a little slower, but not even moments behind. He brandished Yato at Leo, blocking him from any further struggle, the sword poised to kill.

“I hate to do this, but… don’t move an inch or I will be forced to end you.”

Please.

His eyes focused on the tip of the sword, bidding its master to do as he said he would. Despite this, his vision was drawn almost immediately behind Kamui. It’s there that he saw him, Odin, within the gathering crowd of Hoshidans, held between two soldiers. His body hung limply between the captors, still breathing, but knocked out cold.

He breathed a sigh of relief, he was alive at least, and thankfully not conscious to see his liege lord begging on his hands and knees for death. 

Then he saw Niles. 

He was bound in a similar fashion to Odin with his wrists tied and weapon nowhere to be seen. There was no struggling despite the clear danger. His eyes trained on Leo, cold, intelligent, observing like an outsider looking in on a situation he had no dealings in. 

His eyes followed every movement, drinking in the exchange.

Initially, Leo felt a shiver run down his spine. He hadn’t seen Niles look at him in that manner since the day fate brought them together.

Then a calmness washed over Leo.

They were both there and in one piece.

“Heh, I don’t doubt your ability to hurt me, dear brother.” He goads with minor hesitation. “Go on. Kill me. End this battle, just as you wish.” For once Kamui looked like he was considering it.

“Just spare my retainers. They were only following my orders.”

Silence followed. Kamui watched him with great contemplation.

“What are you waiting for? I’m helpless in this position. If I could kill you right now with a spell I would, so make your move.”

“No…”

“Why? What’s wrong with you?”

“Me? What’s wrong with you! Leo. I know you. We grew up together. We’re brothers. I know you’ve got a good, kind heart.”

“Shut up!” 

“No, listen…”

“I told you to shut up! What makes you think you understand anything about me?!”

“Because we’re family, Leo. Regardless of my true lineage, I’ll always think of you as my little brother. I don’t want to fight anyone in Nohr, but especially my family. I still love you, brother, that will never ever change.”

His chest ached at the words. A unwelcome idea sliped into his mind before he has the self control to stop it, forgive his brother. 

If only it were that simple.

“Kill me or leave me to die, it makes no difference to me.”

~

The mood shifted dramatically between the small exchange of words.

Leo’s mouth twisted into a frown at the order. He opened his mouth to respond, but Niles gave him no time to do so and instead cut him off before he could speak.

“Your life is yours to spend as you will.” 

Niles made a move to slip off Leo’s leggings next, but his hand was caught before he could yank them down. 

“Could you turn around.” The words came out under Leo’s breath and his cheeks flushed a characteristic shade of red.

His retainer removed his hands from Leo’s hips wordlessly and sat down on the floor next to him with his back turned to allot the prince some privacy.

To Leo’s surprise, he had nothing smart to throw back at him.

“I was careless with my words.” Leo continued the conversation.

“Maybe so, but they weren’t entirely untrue.” Niles tossed back at him, there’s no real feeling of accusation to his tone. It is a statement that confirms a previously unspoken truth. “I am not here to lecture you.”

He found the right words won’t come to mind and conversation died again. Niles missed very little.

Leo struggled to strip off his leggings and undergarments, the silence left him feeling more vulnerable than before. His fight proved to be a difficult one, the clothes caught on his knees and tangle around his ankles. Niles made no move to turn and help, and for that he was thankful.

He knew he should be past an age where such things embarrassed him, but dressing and undressing himself had been something his mother had ingrained in him to do himself from an early age. It was not an easy habit to break. At first, it had been for his protection, too many untrustworthy servants in possession of sharp daggers and kitchen knives with loyalties that belonged to the other royal children and their jealous mothers. Now, it had just devolved into a general discomfort with others seeing him so exposed. He would take the occasional jab at his clothes being inside out over any disruption of this routine.

Niles had never had a hand in assisting in any dressing ritual so this was likely his first exposure to the habit.

At least he humored Leo for the time being.

He did trust Niles with his life, but in these types of situations he still found his eyes trained on the back of his retainer’s head more often than not. He knew Niles would not dare turn, he understood the seriousness of the situation, it was Leo’s own compulsion kept his vision rooted to the thief's back.

He found it hard to believe that the people of Hoshido bathed together in community baths. Just another reason on top of many why he never visit their capital aside from if the opportunity presented itself to seize it. 

Finally successfully undressed, he slid off of the stool with great care and lowered himself into the bath gingerly. He couldn’t hold back the sigh that escaped his lips when the warm water came up to meet him as he sank into it. It stung at his wounds, but felt wonderful against his grimy skin.

To be fully seated in the stone basin was a process, one that took all of Leo’s upper body strength and utmost care. The bathwater came up to his chest and the strong fragrance of fern and lavender almost had a dizzying effect on his exhausted body. A tiny cough resounded from his diaphragm in attempt to clear his lungs for a moment until adjustment occurred. It wasn’t a long process and he acclimated, the smell even began to feel pleasant. 

The delicate foliage floated freely on the surface while ground powders of the dried plants dissolved into the water itself, giving a slightly opaque quality to the purple tinted bath and bubbly froth that formed from the various soaps and additives. In the very least, it gave him a pseudo blanket of modesty. He forced himself to relax into the stone wall of the tub, back to his retainer.

“Okay…” He gave the signal.

Niles waited a moment longer and the shuffling of boots and fabrics met his ears alerting him that he had repositioned himself to make conversation easier.

He deserved a real apology. It was the absolute least he deserved, despite his unwillingness to receive it.

“It was selfish of me to ask for death. It was not proper of me as a prince to beg for it. I should have thought more upon my position and those serving under me, relying on me.”

“I care not for whether your actions are considered morally sound by those observing. You answer to only your own conscience.”

“Niles.” Leo craned his neck over his shoulder so that he could look the thief square in the eye before narrowing his own, “That’s called being a tyrant.”

“At its worst.” Niles shrugged and smiled playfully, “Better than being a dutiful fool that’ll wipe anyone’s ass.”

Leo grumbled and turned back away, not at all amused. He began to scrub himself down with the various soaps he had at his disposal. He was careful about cleaning out the gruesome wound at his side. 

Extensive wounds like this, caused by magic, often never fully healed without proper treatment and careful sterilization. Even at their best they caused painful aching every now and then even years after they’d scarred over. 

As a child, Leo had once had a magic instructor with these same scars covering his hands. He made a point to remind Leo that magic was no toy and at its core not a force for good, it was only unlocked to it’s fullest potential when used to harm another human being. How he got his scars, he would never say.

Niles cleared his throat, “What I intended to say is that you don’t owe an explanation to me of all people. I will follow your orders without question so long as you live. If you want me to ask why then tell me, what was your reason for it? Your answer will not change any of my vows.”

Leo felt a lump forming in his throat, and hesitation threatened to silence him, but only for a moment. 

It was frustrating sometimes feeling like such an open book. No one could read him as well as Niles could. From a direct question like this, he would sense any hint of dishonesty. He could count the number of things on one hand that were more important to him than Niles’ trust in him.

“At that moment it felt like an easy escape from all of these troubles and heart aches. I thought, ‘my family will fare better without me’ and ‘what would it be but another casualty of war’. I understand that was not the right answer to these struggles. ” 

“And you truly believe that?”

“Yes, but I’m too much of a coward to ever follow through, you needn’t worry.” He laughed to punctuate the ending, but the noise that came out felt pathetic.

There was an unnatural pause in the conversation and his heart missed a beat. Had he bared his soul too much and gone too far? He peeked over his shoulder nervously, trying to get a feeling of what Nile’s face looked like.

Their eyes met.

“If the time ever comes that you feel that your jeweled prison is too much for you and death is your answer, I will not stop you.” Niles meets him with a powerful gaze. “No one is required to struggle beyond what they can handle. Coward or hero, either is allowed the same escape.”

Leo turned back quickly as he felts a shiver crawl down his spine. Again he’s reminded as to the truth of Niles’ nature. 

Cold, calculating, an observer. 

Despite their discussions back and forth debating politics, ethics, decisions, there was never a hint of resentment towards Leo’s final decision.

When Niles thought it was best, he offered his advice, and when he thought it was ill advised, he did not, and where Leo commanded he followed. He was not one to make effort to find justification in the injustice, vision clouded by rose colored glasses.

He saw past the gilded surface Leo tried so hard to maintain and and saw his ugly interior. He watched the world turn without bemoaning its fate and let it spin on.

Yet, after what he’d done, there was no way he still was worthy of Niles’ respect.

There have been some way to change the direction of this conversation.

“I’m surprised you have nothing to say about this situation.” It was a sloppy attempt.

“It’s too bad, from our positioning I can’t see your delicious expression. I’d much rather us be face to face” Niles rose immediately to accept the challenge. 

Leo grumbled but, he did ask for that kind of response. 

His mind wandered back to the source of his woes.

Kamui.

“Niles, do you hate Hoshido?”

“Yes.” He didn’t miss a note. 

“Why?”

“How can a nation live in such excess and turn a blind eye while its neighbor starves and conquerors to survive? It’s a country that has not known true hardship and and yet it easily points the finger of blame towards those in a less fortunate situation.”

A pause.

“But if you’re asking if I have a strong sense of national duty, then no. I feel no attachment to Nohr. My duty to you is the only thing that binds me here and bids me fight.” 

“I do envy your black and white view on the world.”

“I would not.” Niles shuts him down. “The world is not black or white.”

“I’ve tried to hate them, Hoshido.” 

“So why don’t you?”

“I did once, but now my brother fights with them and I can’t find it in me to believe them to be demons. He’s one of them, but he’s also one of us. I’ve tried to battle for glory and duty, but even those things don’t mean enough to me.”

A laugh burst out of Niles without warning, “I never did get along with the honorable sort anyway. Those things hold no value to a dead man.”

“The reason that I fight, it must be because I’m afraid. As you said, death is equally as available to cowards as it is to heroes, and I am no hero...” He trailed off feeling the reality of the situation strike him.

“If you were a coward, you wouldn’t still be here. Cowards run, they don’t die for glory.”

“I’m done with my bath.”


End file.
